


For what is the heart of Liberty?

by MorningGlory21



Series: Of Gods Known and Born [3]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Series, he deserves it, niki and fundy deserve more love. i am putting them here, not beta read we die like l'manburg, really wanting to do some quackity chapters <3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningGlory21/pseuds/MorningGlory21
Summary: For what is the heart of liberty? Tommy knew it was the people who raised their fist in the face of a tyrant - that protested the shadow of darkness that threatened their hearts so full of hope.He would not blink.--A continuation of "Let Me Drink From The Well of Liberty". Much more Tommy centric.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Of Gods Known and Born [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973485
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	1. Don't Blink

To look across a land he used to joyfully bound across, Tommy used to feel a joy that swelled. He and Tubbo had found their way here - bereft of memories, greeted by a faceless figure and his friends. They had had their fun, built their homes, had fished and weaseled their ways into multiple ventures.

He didn’t remember anything beforehand, just little glimpses at the bottom of a mental well. Tommy can recall just a little - of kindly faces, of music played, of laughing and feeling free. It’s why he gravitated to what he did. Why he stuck to Tubbo, who remembered much the same.

It had all been well and good.

Then, war and fighting. Fire, sword upon sword, a flurry of arrows. Laughter turned to hissed whispers, wounds clutched in the darkness. That faceless figure, Dream, turned from friend to foe to friend and all around once more. The war had been won, but nearly bought with Tommy’s life.

And Dream became more of a mentor, a friend - a God to fear, but to respect and view fondly. Easy to traverse the valley’s dips and ascensions into the sky with. 

To look upon it now, tainted with wicked claws and a saccharine tilt with abandoned festival banners. 

For what is the heart of liberty? Tommy knew it was the people who raised their fist in the face of a tyrant - that protested the shadow of darkness that threatened their hearts so full of hope. He would not blink. Tommy would not blink, because it might mean that the darkness could sink deeper. He was not endless, he was not immortal ( _ even though he had lived through what had nearly killed him before, that time sometimes seemed to smear together like how the books would sometimes describe it in their ancient tongues _ ) - he was mortal flesh that would burn, would bleed and one day, die. But in that middle ground, he would not give up on his people and his lands.

That, at least, could be immortal.

And yet, with a blink, it could be all done for. Time was not something to scoff at, to become placid and apathetic to. Liberty, and time, was something you fought with your teeth and your hands and your sharp swords with. An idea could be immortal only if it burrowed itself in the hearts of the mortal flesh. An idea that could grow rotten if the heart it took up home within grew rotten.

His heart would not so easily grow rotten.

His heart would thrum with energy.

It would seek to destroy those shadows with the sharp edge of an arrow.

( _ Tommy thought he was growing far too poetic. A product of being around Wilbur and Dream, he would laugh silently.) _

Tommy stared down at his bow, quiver rested against his back with a certain heft. He would not blink this time. This was their land, their nation - it would not turn to ash, nor dust, nor sand in the wind.

He would not bow in the face of a man who had lost all of his hope, his love, his attachments. A man who only had fire, brimstone and destruction in his heart. 

_ If we don’t have hope, what’s it worth doing anything, Wilbur? _

Tommy flicked his eyes out over the hills and spotted them. 

_ We can take our home back. _

Quackity and Schlatt seemed to be talking, and red was all Tommy could see. He edged closer and closer, poised like a hunter. With an arrow notched and ready to fire, he tilted his head in to listen. They were arguing about the White House, the project a collaboration made when things seemed  _ normal _ .

When he still had his home to return to.

It was hard to hear what they were arguing about. The wind swallowed their words and spat them out in the ravine behind the White House, but Tommy could see that Schlatt was trying to tear pieces of the building away. 

Something stirred in the boy as Quackity’s rage seemed to grow tenfold. Not even the wind could chew on his next few words.

“You’re nothing without me! You’re in power because of me!”

Tommy nodded, as if anybody but him knew he was agreeing.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, Schlatt!” An angry howl that seemed to be boosted by the winds that howled with him. “I’m leaving!”

A few words were exchanged and Tommy’s eyes widened just a bit when he saw Quackity  _ slap _ Schlatt. He un-notched his arrow and slung his bow across his back, while still he watched Quackity storm away.

Schlatt, for the most part, seemed unbothered. He only barked out a few insults, before he returned to his task.

Something beckoned him to follow after Quackity. Could he convince somebody new, once a foe, to become an ally? Something stirred in Tommy as he snuck into the woods after the Vice President - hope for a new day?

_ Why do anything if you don’t have hope? _

_ We can make this our home again. _


	2. To the wilds you go

Instead of running, he walked. 

The forest was alive with noise. Birds, deer, wild cows and pigs and sheep. A cold comfort for his mind is a mess. Cold in general and his armor did little to warm his soul - even things borne from the Nether couldn't pierce through his scared mind. 

He was scared. Beyond scared, really, far into tiredness, and settled securely in terror. Where would he go now? He still wanted to help Manberg, be there as it’s leader - it was why he had run in first fucking place. All of his good intentions had melted into one twisted and repugnant sphere of guilt. Lodged deep in his chest, it had grown since he had become a friend to Tubbo. Grown, because he was fond of the young boy who shared much the same unworthy desk jockey task as him.

It exploded the same day he had seen Tubbo nearly killed in front of his eyes. He hadn’t wanted this, not when his goals had started out so noble. The burn scar on the side of his face throbbed with that thought.

He had only wanted to protect Manberg, not install a tyrant who drank wildly and who punched down. Not  _ another _ tyrant.

The trees scratched at his face, the underbrush pulled at his feet, and the winds sang a dreadful melody. Up above, a warm afternoon (so unusual this close to winter, but what wasn’t unusual now?) tried it’s hardest to bring back life to his heart.

And still, he walked.

And he walked, to a small clearing, where he heard hoofsteps nearing.

Quackity steeled himself, hand drawn to his sword - if it was Schlatt, was he here to needle and yell and draw him back to Manberg? Or was he here to try and kill him? That second option seemed less likely; Schlatt could barely kill a fly if it died on his gym equipment.

Then who, pray tell, could it be?

The trees shifted and seemed to bow out of the way for the newcomer. A mop of blond hair, gleaming blue eyes behind a helmet showed themselves. Quackity hadn’t seen the young boy in some time - not since the quiet moments where they’d fuck around. Of course his contention had not really been with Tommy.

He wasn’t power hungry. That was easy to observe.

“Big Q!” Tommy tilted his head and Quackity couldn’t help but scrape his foot across the ground, seeming small beneath Tommy’s high above gaze. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same!” Said quickly, to cover up and cover bases with as much haste as possible. “Can you take off your armor?”

Something about Tommy seemed so - off? Weird? Different? It set him off.

It reminded him of Dream, the few times they had interacted.

Tommy seemed a little harried by that request, but with a huff the armor flopped onto the ground. Helmet, chestplate, boots. He didn’t press for his leggings, though - just the simple fact he’d been listened to for once pleased him enough. His nerves were frayed, and his hands shook. Tommy tilted his head, eyes narrowed and lips drawn taut.

“What happened?”

“Schlatt - Schlatt doesn’t appreciate me!” And it all came out, to which Tommy seemed to blink but did not put a stop to the sentences that flowed freely. “He wants to tear down the White House! The one thing we all built together! He doesn’t fucking get that  _ I _ helped him win! He doesn’t care about anybody but himself!”

Tommy nodded along, and Quackity found himself invigorated. Somebody finally took what he said seriously! 

Why had he chosen to be a kiss ass when taking charge felt even better? 

"Yeah, I totally agree, Big Q." Tommy grinned and the warmth of his full mouthed beaming made Quackity feel the same warmth. "He's a tyrant!"

"You get it!"

"And we want to overthrow him!"

"Fuck yeah!"

Tommy stood up in the saddle and punched the air. It was jubilant and made Quackity jump in the air too. All of his past anxieties melted away for just a second. Both of them whooped and hollered into the vast forest, words of rebellion on their tongues and in the air. 

"For L'Manberg!" Tommy cheered. "For its people! For liberty!"

"For the people and liberty!" Quackity called back, and again Tommy beamed back at him. 

"I think we make a good team, Big Q." Tommy sat back in the saddle. "Even with the election, n'stuff."

That made him shake his head. "It wasn't personal, Tommy. It was to help L'Manberg. When I first came here, Wilbur told me that only those he deemed worthy were allowed to be citizens. And that, well, it stuck with me."

The eyes that settled on him were… well, they unsettled Quackity. But only for a second. 

"I understand that. But, but - we're in this together. We both hate Schlatt and what he's doing to L'Manberg. If we get rid of him, we can go back to normal and make things better!" Tommy nodded to himself. "And you'd make a great president, Big Q."

"No big ambitions for you?" Quackity chuckled to himself, and grazed his fingers across his burn scar. "Thought you'd like to be president."

"No. My loyalty lies with the nation and the people, not the position of power."

Quackity is just a little stunned by that proclamation, but it makes sense. Tommy was an instigator of chaos and comedy, of small adventures in fun. He was fantastic at being a supporter, but seemed just a little nervous at being a leader for extended periods. 

With a smile, and a loss for words, Quackity nodded. "Makes sense."

"That's why you'll be president, big man. And I'll be happy to follow your lead." Tommy did a lazy salute with a very much, totally not jokey, grin. "Now, hop on. I wanna show you  _ Pogtopia _ ."

With the grace of a man who just resigned from a position he'd given so much up for, Quackity mounted up on the saddle behind Tommy. This close, there was a small tug on his mind. It nagged him for attention. Near clawed his mind. 

And as they moved, the sway of the horse eased the sensation. The trees and the rushing streams distracted him. 

Except for one little thought. 

_ What had made Tommy change? Why did he seem so… odd? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Button room chapter next <3


	3. you could say it's chekhov's gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We will be dumb soon, save the word (mama, now)  
> So we should be young right now (we should be young right now)  
> We would be more fun with waterguns (with waterguns)  
> So we should be young right now

The walk through the secret tunnel had been full of catching the other up. A friendship renewed so easily, neither would have expected that they'd been enemies just a day and a bit more before. 

And now it was full of plans on how to upset Schlatt. 

Which Quackity was eager to stew over. 

“Big Q, do you know what a  _ cock _ is?” Tommy beamed down at Quackity, his face just a touch of mischievousness. “‘Cause -”

His friend choked, then laughed hard enough that the tunnel’s walls bounced it back at them. This place was like a sort of in-between; home, yet nothing of the sort. Yet it held laughter and Tommy felt a sort of pride in that matter. 

"Yea - yeah I do, Tommy." Quackity snorted and he tugged at his jacket absentmindedly, a laugh still hinted. "Why'd you ask?"

"'Cause I have a plan. A big man's plan. To drop the morale of Manberg's leader."

Quackity caught the mischievous look in Tommy's eyes and grinned.

"You got any paint, Big Q?"

\---

"It looks a bit uneven, Tommy." Quackity put his index and thumb to his chin, his laugh stifled. 

Even though the green lawn was empty, ghost-like after the festival, they were being stealthy. Nobody who would've cared about their presence was around. Not with the faint stench of gunpowder and burnt paper from overused fireworks. 

Tommy focused on the small of the black paint.

"Who cares? I think it looks very demoralizing." Tommy huffed, which earned him a joking eye roll from the other teen. "Why don't you try?"

With a ladder offered, Quackity bit his lip. 

"I don't do well with heights." He finally choked out, and looked out at the flat clearing. "It's why I-"

"I'll be right here!" Tommy pressed, because he wanted to have some mutual fun. "You won't get hurt while I'm around."

They stared at each other, before Quackity gave a quiet sigh. Like a secret was about to be released like a moth that fled the flame. Tommy thought that was very apt for his friend's situation, but didn't dwell on it for long.

"Tommy, we've been friends for a long time. But I haven't ever, uh, told you about a secret of mine." He tugged at his jacket.

It was in that moment that Tommy had a sudden realization; he’d never seen Quackity without a jacket, or something to fully cover his back. No regular shirt, no thin shirt - nothing to expose any vulnerabilities. And it piqued his interest, head tilted. A simple beckon to tell him.

So Quackity felt beholden to do so.

“I have wings. Not like, y’know those things from the  _ End _ ?” He gave a small smile, but didn’t try to remove his jacket.

( _ a quiet voice asked him;  _ _ ⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧⌧? _ )

( _ and tommy chose to ignore whatever it had asked him _ )

( _ had he even heard it, actually? _ )

And Tommy didn’t beckon him to.

Instead, he put the ladder down with a sigh. “Can you fly, big man? And.. we can stop. Maybe an off-kilter one will demoralize them more?”

Quackity laughed at that with a nod, muttered that he  _ couldn’t _ fly, and they gathered up their supplies. Tommy still had to give him a good tour of Pogtopia, see his battle prowess and find armor for their newest member. Already the pathway was cleared up in his mind.

One more friend to help him not feel like he was alone (even if Niki, Tubbo and Dream were there for him, it never hurt). Another person who was dedicated and devoted to L’Manburg like he was.

( _ Did he doubt Wilbur like that, when he so easily wanted to blow it up? Did he have a moral high ground, when he also had wanted to crush those who had hurt his friend? _ )

He breathed out as they plodded away, quietly, back towards the hill where the old White House had stood. Quackity kept his eyes averted and Tommy gritted his teeth, hand clenched so hard his nails dug into his calloused palm. More history of their nation torn away and left to the dust - or, more accurately, to a small potted sapling.

Both of them linger in the gusty wind, as it clawed at their faces, to stare.

But it wasn’t either of them who spoke, nor was it the wind who spoke.

“Tommy, what are you doing with Quackity?” Wilbur’s voice was a small waver as he climbed up over the opposing side of the hill. 

His eyes spoke of mistrust as he glares at Quackity.

“Well, y’see,” Tommy stands straighter, as if he’s in a practicing duel with Dream or Techno - because he still respects Wilbur. “I recruited him.”

It’s Wilbur’s turn to stand straighter, but it’s obvious it’s not from respect, instead disbelief. 

“You what? The Vice President to - “

Quackity scoffs and Wilbur frowns just a bit. “I’m not the Vice President anymore.”

Again, Wilbur looks as if he’s in disbelief and yet -

“Fine. Just don’t fuck things up.” He says it so easily and Tommy half agrees in his mind - though, did Wilbur have to be so harsh? “And anyways, I wanted to show Tommy, and now you, something.”

“What is it?” He asks and Quackity nods his agreement. “Something to help us in taking back L’Manburg?”

The small, barely noticeable smile should have been Tommy’s first red flag. 

But he loved his mentor far too much, let it blind him from the reality of it.

“Follow me, you two.” Wilbur doesn’t wait, turns around and starts to walk. 

Tommy and Quackity follow, a touch of confusion on their faces. 

\---

The air was stagnant in the tunnel. Tommy, apprehensive and yet still so trustful, kept his head high. Quackity looks about, narrows his eyes and sets his jaw. He’s ready for something to go wrong and while Tommy knows Wilbur has had a few screws loose, he’s still -

He’s still Tommy’s brother. His mentor. His father? 

Tommy can’t let go of that so  _ easily _ .

Light seeps at their feet as they near the end. Tommy blinks back the sting of it, and Quackity mutters to himself. Wilbur spreads his arms and Tommy realizes, finally, that it was a red flag as he takes in the room.

But Quackity speaks first, shock and fear in it.

“What the fuck is this?”

Wilbur laughs softly and Tommy stares at the scrawl on the walls.

_ For what was the heart of liberty? Was it the people who raised their fist against tyranny? _

Tommy wasn’t sure he liked this fist against tyranny.

He shifted on his feet and tilted his head at Wilbur, and it gave him a headache.

( _ why? there’s something about you that… I don’t know _ )

“Wilbur is this the… button room?” Tommy’s voice wavers, and sees every mistake he’s made up this point fall at his feet. And he pushes past Wilbur, without waiting, without stopping.

Quackity joins his side and they block the button.

Wilbur just smiles.

“So astute, Tommy. Yes, it is.” Tommy’s mentor spreads his arms out, as if he’s gesturing to the entire room - so tiny, yet so big. “And I’m going to press it. Blow up  _ all  _ of L’Manburg.”

Both of them tense, and while Quackity takes an offensive stance, Tommy backs up. He stands as the second obstacle. He hopes he won’t have to face Wilbur like this, that maddening look in his eyes.

Up close, it spoke something to Tommy.

( _ i remember you like this, at one point, at some time in us knowing each other) _

_ (but when? I’ve only ever known you here _ )

“Step away.” Wilbur commands and Tommy feels like he’s right back on the battlefield, slinging curses at Dream. “Now.”

( _ distant whispers tell him, once more, this has happened before _ )

With absolute conviction, Quackity speaks for a wordless Tommy.

“If you blow up L’Manburg, you’ll kill us too!” He speaks out, stares Wilbur down.

Wilbur steps forward and Tommy straightens up.

They lock eyes and Tommy swears he can see a flicker of realization. ( _ but at what? what? was it the memory of closeness, something else? it all consumed tommy’s mind _ ) But then Wilbur flicks his eyes to Quackity.

“No, no, all three of us can get away.” Wilbur speaks calmly. “I don’t intend to die here.”

“What about everybody else?” Tommy finds his voice finally, but he picks a point above Wilbur’s head. “What about them?”

“There’s barely anybody out there except for Schlatt. Why do you think I want to do this  _ now _ , Tommy?”

Wilbur steps forward, but Quackity grapples him. They struggle in each other's grasp and Tommy struggles to find his words. He’s rarely so choked up, words hidden even to his own tongue.

And yet, he still speaks.

“No. Let him go, Quackity.” Tommy says, less a command and more a request. “We’ll let Wilbur choose.”

Wilbur looks at him and Tommy feels ready for the wash of emotion. ( _ i think i know what you are, too _ )

“What do you mean?” Quackity frowns, but he still lets go. He hovers close, as if ready to jump. “Tommy?”

“Wilbur, are you serious about this?” Tommy says gently. “We can try other things.”

( _ you’re - you’re - _ )

Wilbur stares at him, and something within Tommy wonders - if we were not brothers, not mentor and mentee - would you listen to me?

“Fine.” Wilbur bites out, but Quackity still keeps tense. “We’ll try something else. Let’s figure it out back in Pogtopia.”

( _ you’re just - _ )

Tommy stares him down, he tilts his head. He wants Wilbur to speak now, without abridge. With candor.

But Wilbur looks back and tilts his head, too.

Tommy doesn’t shuffle his feet, this time, but he does look away - to Quackity.

“Let’s go, Big Q.” Tommy doesn’t wait, already walking down the hall. 

Quackity follows and he keeps pace. Their footsteps mingle together and Tommy speaks, looking over his shoulder to do so.

“Quackity, where does your loyalty lay?” 

Without even a beat, he tells Tommy -

“L’Manburg. It’s people, it’s history, it’s ideals.” 

Something in Tommy smiles at that, and Tommy nods with a broad grin.

“Good answer, Big Man.”

( _ you’re just like me, Wilbur. Isn’t that right? _ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got lots of backlog finally :) Looking like I'll probably do some stuff with S2 of the SMP, which is very pog. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! And make sure your chekhov's gun is loaded, never know when you'll be the gunman <3


	4. To The Friends We Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They all laughed as he turned around slow  
> They said you ain't welcome round here anymore  
> You just might as well go  
> He wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees  
> He said I’ll be back when you least expect it  
> And hell's coming with me  
> Hell's coming with me

The next few days are a quiet one. 

Beyond the fact that a deal was struck between Quackity and Wilbur ( _ a meeting? to decide how everything would go? _ ), things seemed to blur together. Tommy sharpened his swords, tried to find better armor, and watched the silent city of L’Manburg. Something about it seemed so  _ wrong _ \- the people scurried like rats, fearful, unused and dirty festival decor the only splash of color.

Something inside of Tommy ached at all of it.

That wasn’t  _ his  _ L’Manburg. The one he nearly died for ( _ and he does remember how, when everybody gathered around him, a whisper that had persisted in his mind had grown into a full voice. that spoke out to him, beckoned him to awake and live - told him he was their heart) _ , the one he still believed in.

It was a perversion of his very ideals. 

It only made his resolve greater to break the horns of that tyrant ( _ who he used to be fond of _ ) and bring that former glory to all.

He moved like a shadow, now, in the night. Across his own train tracks, to a distant home. The glittering lights of his city behind sparkled like fairy lights, as if they beckoned him to return. Not yet, he whispered to himself when he took the moment to stop and look back. The stone beneath him was sturdy and allowed him to take a moment.

One day, though, he whispered, his breath fanned out in front of him in the late Autumn air. 

I’ll cure you of your sickness, he promised in his mind.

( _ because you are their heart _ , that voice whispered)

(and tommy listened this time, a quiet beckon in the back of his mind)

And yet, he turned his back and continued on. His holiday home loomed on a distant hill, dark and unused in the time since his exile. Far away enough that it was often out of the mind of others because of the distance and the fact you needed to climb it to get up to it. Tommy scrambled up the cliffside, his muscles pushed to their limits. He enjoyed it, though; it kept his mind off the reason he came up here.

Tucked away in a cliff face, just beneath his home, was a grave.

Tommy can remember his tears as he carved the name of his beloved pet cow,  _ Henry _ , into the side of the cliff. How he had felt so numb, to lose yet  _ another _ pet. Comfort wasn't a name he was privy to, not in a long time.  _ Or had he ever known that name?  _

The earth below him was lush with perfect grass. As he fanned his fingers across it, settled down on it, he thought -  _ I miss you, Henry. I really do miss you. You were my friend _ . He looked up at the moon and commended his friend to the waiting arms of the sky, a belated wish, and to wait for him.

Everything - the festival, the explosives that Wilbur had somehow gotten and hidden and told him about in blurred together thoughts - fell away. A welcome numbness that cooled his burning center. The bugs sang in the night, moths flocked to the lanterns that wreathed his head above like a halo. 

And for just a moment, Tommy was alone with his thoughts. 

( _ you haven't known peace since ----. and you won't ever, if you don't heed the call of -----.) _

And that moment was gone, when a voice spoke out to him. 

"Tommy?" Unsure, as if she wouldn't be allowed here. "Are you okay?"

His eyes flicked over to Niki, who lingered at the edge of the planter's edge. As if she wasn't welcome in such a quiet and intimate place. 

So, he beamed a smile at her and patted a spot next to him. 

"I'm perfect. Just… mourning a friend." He looked away as she settled next to him. 

Tommy can remember that she used to smell of a bakery and flowers: a peacetime privilege. She smelled, just like him, of war and plots; a ravine, of fallen rain, and gunpowder. They were explosions ready to fire. 

Niki pulled her knees close to her chest.

"I'm glad you can visit him. I can't… visit Fungi's." Her gentle tone wavered, balancing an edge between anger and bitter sorrow. 

"Pets don't last long in this realm, do they?" Tommy cheekily laughed. "Who's our biggest threat, honestly? Sapnap, or Schlatt?"

There's a ghost of a smile on Niki's face, and Tommy knew that she wasn't here for jokes or pets. He pulled himself like Niki, readying himself for her question. Sometimes, it felt like he had become the sounding board for Pogtopia. 

"Tommy, I know saving L'Manberg is worth it but… what do we do after?" 

( _ After? We go back, and we sing the songs of our history and people. We do what the people want _ .) 

Tommy struggled to form words, to satisfy the question presented to him. He had never been very good at speaking to such reflective statements.

"We go back and… we find a purpose. L'Manberg was founded to be against tyranny, and to protect the weakest against the strongest. That's what we do." Tommy fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "It's what I'll do."

_ And because it's Wilbur's creation.  _ Was left unsaid, but Niki nodded.

"That's what I want to do, too. We can commit to it further. Dream's power still lies… beyond control."

That stung, even if a part of him agreed. Dream was his friend, or something so close. A mentor? But there was something about him that made him - 

Tommy didn't know how to describe it. He cared, he was sure Dream cared, but something wasn't entirely right. Like something about Dream wasn't entirely…  _ mortal _ .

( _ The winds in these lands have known him. Far longer than any who call him friend have. _ )

"I agree. When we get L'Manberg back, we'll commit to taking down more tyrants." He turned to look at her, and saw the passion and love in her eyes. "You're good to L'Manberg, Niki."

( _ Feed that fire. Grow with it. _ )

She blinked at him in surprise, but smiled. "Thank you, Tommy. You always have a way at… gluing broken pieces, people, back together."

"Rallying? Yeah, Wil says the same." He looked away and remembered how distant his brother had gotten. 

How distant he'd gotten from them both. 

"Niki…" He started his thoughts, and they came slowly. 

"Yes?"

_ Is he beyond saving?  _ **_No._ **

And yet -

"Never mind." He sighed and Niki looked at him, he could feel her eyes on him.

_ More eyes _ . 

"Do you want to go inside, Tommy? It's getting cold." Niki stood.

And while Tommy followed, he made no move to follow. 

"Not yet. I wanna… linger." He gave a big smile in return, in compensation. 

_ Somebody's watching us. _

_ But who?  _

As Niki left him with his thoughts, the soft sound of footsteps answered him. Tommy looked, hard, as a figure appeared at the edge of the treeline. They matched with the greenery and Tommy gritted his teeth. 

"Dream?" He narrowed his eyes. "Speak of the Dragon."

( _ I know him.) _

"Hello Tommy." There's a certain edge to his voice, so different from before. "I just wanted to talk."

Before, and not even that long before, Tommy didn't feel a full ounce of fear. Perhaps he should have, because he felt on edge. Something had changed in the time that had blurred together, when he had grown blind to everything around him. 

( _ He is an equal. Maybe a friend. But it wasn't meant to last.) _

"About what?" And he tensed even more as Dream fully stepped into sight; nothing had changed, and yet something unseen had.

"I've - well, I've learned new things Tommy. I can't really support  _ Pogtopia _ anymore."

Tommy bristled up, angry and indignant. 

"Hey, hey! I'll still support you." He tilted his head. "Don't jump to conclusions. You and me, we're powerful."

"I don't want power." He said flatly, and shook his head. "And not supporting Pogtopia means not supporting me. What did you learn that made you change your mind?"

And he can remember that he had felt so happy to have Dream's support. That he had a  _ friend _ on his side, instead of a smarting bruise. 

Now, that all felt so hollow. 

"Things you wouldn't understand. At least, not yet." Dream stepped back, as if he knew he wasn't welcomed anymore in this conversation. "Tommy, just remember - you are far more powerful than any of them could understand."

And there he was, misunderstanding everything Tommy was. When he blinked, Dream was gone but his unease still stood. 

The night was cold, but the fire within kept him warm. And he knew what he was going to do tomorrow. Return home, fix it when nobody is looking and feel… at ease. Rid the unease that ate him alive. 

Even young Gods needed some down time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Time No See. Haha :) I lost so much motivation to write because of exams in December and a general wintry mood slump, but I'm going back to college on Friday! Woo!! Hopefully I'll be more motivated to Write. Thank you guys, if you've stuck around! <3
> 
> Beginning note song is "Hell's Coming with Me" by Poor Man's Poison

**Author's Note:**

> HOWDY EVERYBODY!!! <3 Good to see you guys again. With the End Is Near coming soon, I hope that I can get a good and concrete ending started up soon. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> And who do you think the Traitor is? :) I'm a Tommy and Tubbo traitor theorisit tbh.


End file.
